


In the hollows of the trees and the bends of my knees

by sommarpatriot



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drinking, Healing, M/M, Melancholy, Past Loves, Shared Misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 15:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sommarpatriot/pseuds/sommarpatriot
Summary: A study of Bucky Barnes, by Sam Wilson.





	In the hollows of the trees and the bends of my knees

**Author's Note:**

> where my winterfalcon bitches at

Bucky is tired. The man is, like, tired right down to his bones. It’s obvious, because even though he likes to put on a smile when Pepper sends them on a new mission, his shoulders slump visibly every time the phone rings. When they get a few days off, they spend it hanging around whatever hotel room they’ve booked themselves, and Bucky alternates sleeping for 14 hours at a time and then not sleeping the rest of the time as if he’s punishing himself for it. He has a lot of issues. Sam is just starting to see how deep they run.

It’s not unusual to find themselves at a bar in some seedy alley where no one will look at their faces and connect them to either war crimes or heroics, and they can just be two guys, having a drink, enjoying the sights of whatever city they’re in. Bucky likes expensive whiskey but doesn’t drink that much of it, or else it doesn’t affect him the way it doesn’t affect Steve, because Sam’s never seen him drunk. He doesn’t talk much outside of the mission they’re on, which Sam thinks is because he’s still too preoccupied with what happened to him to be able to focus on anything longer than his objective. It’s understandable, and Sam knows the value of waiting until someone is ready to share their personal horrors, so he doesn’t push. 

They’re in London now, just killing time until Rhodey gets the coordinates of their next target. It gives Sam time to think about his new role in life--he’s been pondering that a lot, lately. Is he really going to take over Steve’s spot? Is he really going to become the next Captain America? His dad’s gonna get a kick out of that one. An army brat who was raised on the ideals of truth, justice and the American way, who grew up reading the Captain America and Bucky Barnes comic books, is about to take up the mantel, and is sitting across the table from the same person those comic books were written about. 

Turns out that guy is a pain in his ass. Sam’s shoulder is still sore from being pulled off a balcony six months ago. 

“That was a reckless shot, you know that,” he says, continuing on a conversation they’ve been having for four days.

Bucky shrugs. “I saw the chance, I took it.” 

“Yeah, then I had to grab you to stop you from going over the side of the ship. Where would you be without me, Barnes?”

Bucky flicks a coaster at his head. “A lot better off.”

They’ve gotten to know each other better over the last couple months. Bucky needs good people around him and, despite constantly getting himself into situations that not even he can get himself out of without risking his own death, he’s a good dude. They make a good pair. 

Unfortunately, Sam thinks, as two blondes enter the pub, he makes a terrible wingman. One of them glances over and catches his eye before turning back to her friend. He’s considering going for it, but he looks over at Bucky, who’s looking out the window but not at anything in particular, and decides to drop it.

“I haven’t figured you out yet,” Sam says. He’s still nursing his beer, never drinking too much that he can’t get Bucky to safety if need be, but it’s stronger over here and comes in massive pints that point to the exact reason why the entirety of England seems to have a drinking problem. “Who’s your type?”

Bucky’s eyes flick to Sam’s face, and there’s an innocence to them that belies what he’s gone through over the last century. “I dunno. Nice, I guess.”

Well that’s cryptically vague, Sam thinks. “Blonde?”

Bucky glances over to the women at the bar the down at his drink. His gloved hand flexes around the glass. “Sure.”

“I could talk to them. I’m pretty good at that, talking to people. That is, if you’re into that.” He tries to approach it cautiously but casually. Bucky’s been healing lately, and he’s come really far in his recovery; he goes along to meetings with Sam even if he doesn’t talk much. 

“Into what? Talking?”

“Talking with women.”

Bucky’s silent for a few seconds. “You know, I never really thought about it.”

Sam gets it. He thought he was straight for a while, never really questioning the way he was around guys until he met Riley, and then it was like a whole part of his life opened up for him, like unlocking a new level. He could finally put a name to the feeling he had: desire. Loving Riley, and having Riley love him back, was intoxicating. It was real in a way few things in his life had been. Sam breathes through a wave of longing that threatens to overwhelm him. 

“Cap told me that you were always the ladies’ man. You were always trying to set him up on dates.”

“I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. I never really thought about that either except how everyone expected me to want to take up with a girl, and then I could never make my mind up about which one. So I went with a lot of them, and made sure Steve had some company, too.”

It’s the most he’s said in a long time, and Sam nods in encouragement. “But it was never quite right, was it?”

Bucky shakes his head. “All the girls - they were sweet, and some of them I even introduced to my ma, but as far as marrying them went - I guess I would’ve eventually found one to settle down with, but it was never like - like what Steve and Peggy had, you know? That kinda everlasting sort of romance. They never fit me quite right.”

“Were there any guys you thought fit you?”

Bucky glances out the window and is silent for a long time that Sam thinks maybe he didn’t hear the question. “Maybe one. This guy back home, when we were young and stupid, before I got drafted. Tiny, a firecracker, got into fights all the time. Even took me on once or twice. Then I shipped off. Never did see him again after that.”

“You must still think about him.” Sam still thinks about Riley. Riley is a permanent presence in the back of his mind, a hole that sucks all the stupid shit that doesn’t matter out of his life and replaces it with warmth and tenderness. He knows how to love, because Riley taught him. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, no more than a breath. They drink in silence for a while, staying long after the women leave, and it’s nice like that, comfortable. Sam’s phone goes off with a message soon enough, and then it’s back to business.


End file.
